Death Eaters, A History
by R4v3n Kn1ght
Summary: "You know, Draco…We weren't always called Death Eaters." Draco learns just where the name came from... Humor!


**Author's Notes:** Without the half asleep conversations with Artemis Arcturus, this would not be a possible story. We are a couple of insane people, and when you combine insanity with half-consciousness, this is the result. This is a humor fic and is not intended to be taken seriously in any way! I do not own Harry Potter, or any recognizable characters, locations, etc. They all belong to JK Rowling.

**Death Eaters, A History **

The night before a young witch or wizard gets inducted into the fearsome organization known as the Death Eaters is always nerve-wracking. Draco Malfoy was no exception. His eyes were red rimmed from lack of sleep and he'd been shaking all day. It was now the late hours of the night, and he sat in front of the fireplace next to his father, Lucius Malfoy, in their home, Malfoy Manor. When Lucius gave the news to Draco's mother that their son was going to be marked a week ago, she had burst into tears and walked about the house, making pitifully wretched blubbering sounds. She was doing it now. Lucius stared into the fire, his upper lip twitching at the sounds his wife was making.

"Such an embarrassment," he mumbled, before taking a large gulp of brandy from the decorative sifter in his hand.

Draco twisted in the gigantic armchair and looked at the doorway just as his mother shuffled by, sobbing loudly. He turned back to his twitching father and was about to say something but Lucius spoke first. "She's worse than that crazy screaming portrait in her aunt's house!" He took another gulp of brandy.

Draco looked at the clock on the mantle, noticing that it was about to chime 3:00am. Any minute now. "Father?" he asked.

"What, Draco?" his father hissed at him.

"I was wondering—" The clock began chiming 3:00am. It was obnoxious. He waited for it to stop. When it did, Draco tried to work up his nerve to talk to his father again. It had taken him four hours to work it up the first time only to have that stupid clock ruin it! Maybe he wasn't supposed to ask this question. But he wanted to know! "I was wondering…why are we called Death Eaters?"

For a long time it seemed that Lucius had not heard him. He'd summoned to him the entire large bottle of brandy, giving up on the proper drinking-from-a-glass method. Especially when his son had the gall to ask such a question. 'At least he didn't ask My LORD!' he thought. He took several long swigs from the brandy bottle, thinking about how to answer the question.

Draco had waited for the answer from his father for what seemed like forever! He looked at the clock, which now read 3:30am. His father ignored the question for a half hour! With an aggravated sigh, Draco propelled himself from the armchair, intent on laying awake in his own bed rather than stare at the fire and watching his father drink himself into a stupor! As he reached the doorway, he heard his father quietly whisper.

"You know, Draco…We weren't always called Death Eaters."

Draco turned and stepped back towards his father, who still stared at the crackling fire. Lucius continued talking as though he could care less if Draco listened to the story or not. Maybe he just needed to get the story told, even though he seemed to be looking more and more sick with every word he spoke.

"We were once simply called The Dark Lord's Followers. That got shortened eventually to just His Followers. Then of course it got shortened even more to just His. Kind of boring if you ask me. My LORD thought so too, Draco. And he decided that he needed to come up with a new name for…His. So, one day, he called a special meeting…

"I arrived like always, except for some reason I seemed to be a little later than usual, which…well, that's not relevant, Draco. Anyway! The point is I arrived. And my LORD was torturing someone else as usual. After he let them off of the curse…You know the one I mean…He told us all that we had an assignment! We had to come up with a new name for us. We couldn't simply be called His anymore. It was not nearly intimidating or frightening enough. Then he let us go. So, I brainstormed all night! All night, Draco! Your mother gave birth to you that night! How was I to possibly think about coming up with an evil name for the group I associated with in secret while your mother…" At that moment, that very mother ran by the doorway sobbing loudly as her sad sounds followed her upstairs where it was mercifully cut off by the door slamming. Lucius paused to swig another gulp from the brandy bottle before continuing. "Your…mother…gave birth to you. And just after that! I was summoned! I had no new name! I knew I was doomed. But when I arrived, I was actually hoping that someone came up with something brilliant before he asked me. Luck, it seems was not on my side…" He took one more swig of brandy, and stared into the fire for a moment, still twitching.

"There were several good attempts by everyone. My LORD actually considered several of them. 'Cursed Ones' sounded like we didn't join willingly, so that idiot suffered a Crucio. 'Dark Marks' sounded like we were the stains of the wizarding world rather than the enlightened ones. He was Crucio'd. 'His Servants' many of us objected to, because it made us sound like we were house elves! Under no circumstances would I suffer to be on an equal sounding level as a house elf. Your Aunt Bellatrix killed him for that one. Someone else suggested 'Curse Givers,' but our LORD thought it made us almost sound like a charity. She was killed too. Then, your dear aunt came up with 'The Unforgiveables.' Not one of her more intelligent moments, Draco. The Dark Lord put her under the Cruciatus for a while, and she laughed – laughed! – as though he were tickling her!

"Then he asked me. I told him I did not have a suggestion. I was not about to tell him why! Because you were born! The only thing I could think of was your name, so I was not about to suggest that we be called 'The Dracos,' although I'm sure it sounded much better than many of the other things that were thrown out there. But I was not tortured, oh no, Draco. What happened after I didn't say anything at all was much…much…worse!"

Draco had walked back to the chair and sat down to listen to the rest of the story. He noticed his father looked as though he were about to vomit into the fire in the next several minutes. He looked deathly ill.

"Our LORD went to the center of the circle of all of us gathered…And he simply said, 'You have all disappointed me.' It is never a good thing, Draco, when you disappoint our LORD! And without saying anything else, or without any warning, he flung up the hem of his robes, and proceeded to spin around very fast, as the most toxic of toxins spread to our nostrils. People passed out! It was absolutely disgusting! It was the foulest stench I have ever smelled in my life!

"In the agony of my lungs, as we were all on the ground, with our LORD standing over us all, his robes back in order, I gasped, 'It's like eating death!' And then, my LORD came to me with this frightening gleam in his eyes and said, 'Lucius! You have come up with the perfect name!' Then he stood up again and announced to all of us that were still conscious that our new name would be Death Eaters and that anyone who failed and disappointed him would not only be Crucio'd, but would be forced to live up to our new name and eat death!"

Lucius then turned a sickly face toward his now quivering son. "So make sure, Draco, that you do not fail our LORD, or you will find yourself knowing what it's like to eat death. And trust me, it is not something you want to experience."

All Draco could do was nod…

…And months later, when he stood with his wand drawn upon Albus Dumbledore in the Astronomy Tower of Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy stood shaking and looking extremely sick. His father's voice reverberated in his head as he stared at the man he was assigned to kill. And suddenly, Draco wondered what would be worse: Kill Albus Dumbledore or Eat Death? Either way, the thought made him sick…

_This is humor, and I hope it was as enjoyable to read as it was to write. Thanks for reading! I hope the late ramblings of insanity made for entertaining reading. Again, this is not meant to be serious. _


End file.
